Take Me Under
by MissWah
Summary: Sam suffers from back pain after a run in with a poltergeist and Dean just wants to look after his little brother.
1. Chapter 1

The blacktop stretched across Sam's vision; they were driving away from another hunt in another no-name town. They'd been on the road for less than twenty minutes when he first noticed the familiar sensation. It was something he had grown accustomed to, and tired of, over the years.

An ache was slowly building in his lower back, and he tried to subtly readjust his position on the seat of the Impala. Dean sat beside him silently, but Sam could see him mouthing the words to Metallica's _Wherever I May Roam_.

It would be at least another four hours until they reached the bunker, and Sam couldn't wait to get there. He was dreaming of his warm bed and his firm pillow and the cabinet chock full of pain meds for him to gorge on.

Past experience told him that this pain would not go away on its own. He hadn't had a flare up in months but being thrown across the room and onto a wall was bound to do some damage. He'd snuck some Advil under the guise of checking that all their weapons were in the trunk before leaving, already expecting the pain to flare up on the drive back.

He didn't want Dean fussing over him, at least not until they got to the bunker. They were both tired and sore and Sam didn't want to stop at some random motel again. They had lived that life for years, but ever since discovering the bunker and finally settling down and making it their own, he preferred to avoid run-down motels whenever possible.

Which was why he was adamant about hiding this from Dean. It wasn't hiding, really, just not fully disclosing his current state of mild discomfort and growing pain. The second Dean got a whiff of it he would want to hunker down on the nearest bed and Sam knew he could easily make it to the bunker. Probably.

He made a conscious effort to school his features and stop his legs from shaking. The pain was spreading across his back, and he could feel where the bruises were as they made contact with the seat. His back would no doubt be covered in purple bruises by tomorrow. _At least no one strangled me this time_, he thought bitterly.

Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed. He was too busy trying to hold himself stiffly on the seat, trying not to give anything away, when he felt pressure building up in his back to an agonising level. He fidgeted on the seat, twisting so that his back was turned to Dean.

The relief was instant, and he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.

"You alright there, Sam?" Dean questioned. His big brother instincts had kicked into high gear ever since he saw his brother being thrown across the room and he was aware of every little movement Sam made. And all the ones he tried not to.

"Yeah, fine," Sam dismissed, not even bothering to look over at Dean's face. He daren't move for fear of making the pain worse.

Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him from across the seat and prayed that his brother would leave it alone. He wanted to sleep until the afternoon, in peace, in his own bed.

He didn't comment if he felt the Impala's speed increase even more from Dean's usual 20 miles over the limit and shut his eyes in relief.

When he opened them again he noticed that half an hour had passed. Dean must have realised he'd woken up from his little doze because he turned up the music. It didn't escape Sam's notice that he also used that as an excuse to look over at Sam's crumpled figure.

The adrenaline had masked the pain after the fight, but now that he had come down and was anxiously looking forward to being home, he could feel the pain building and wasn't sure for how much longer he could sit cramped and twisted in the car.

He could see Dean constantly looking over at him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. But when he felt an agonising pain shoot down his back, he couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping his lips.

Sam turned in his seat and arched his back, splaying a hand across the bottom even though he knew it wouldn't be any use. It felt like someone was stabbing him, _again_ his mind supplied unhelpfully. He tried to breathe through the pain, shutting his eyes tightly and bunching his free hand into a fist.

It felt like years, but was undoubtedly only seconds, when eventually the shooting pain stopped, leaving only a dull throb in its wake.

Sam carefully manoeuvred himself onto his side again, resting his head against the cool window. It was only then that he realised Dean had pulled over and was calling his name.

He looked over at his brother and could see the concern etched on his features. Dean's eyes roamed over his body looking for any injury and finding none. When a visual inspection wasn't enough, Dean stretched his hand out towards Sam.

"What the hell was that?" Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, worried about causing his brother any more pain. He watched as Sam visibly tried to slow his breathing, his chest heaving less and less with every second.

When Sam finally had his breathing under control, he admitted to himself that he couldn't hide this from his brother anymore. "I think I hurt my back on that hunt."

"Yeah, no shit." Dean exclaimed. "That poltergeist threw you pretty good. Let me see."

Sam reluctantly turned his back to Dean and pulled his shirt up as far as he could. Dean pushed it the rest of the way when he couldn't see any injuries.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath when Sam's back was completely uncovered. "You've got some nasty bruises here," his fingers ghosted lightly across the top of Sam's back, but it was when he pressed on his lower back that Sam hissed. "Where does it hurt?"

"All across the bottom," Sam replied as he dropped his shirt back down.

"Well, there's no bruises there," Dean replied. "Does it feel like your usual back pain?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "It's fine, it's just a flare up. I guess they didn't appreciate the treatment."

"Hang on." Dean gave his brother's knee a reassuring squeeze before he left.

Sam could hear him rummaging around in the trunk before returning to his side, a bottle of water and two pills in his hand. "I've already taken Advil."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I got you Tylenol." He handed the pills to Sam and watched as he downed them with almost half the bottle of water. "You're not nearly as sneaky as you think you are."

Sam wasn't even surprised that Dean had noticed. He handed the bottle back and tried to find a comfortable position once again.

"I saw a motel a couple of miles back, we can hole up there for the ni-"

"Dean, no," Sam whined.

Dean gave his best impression of Sam's bitchface. "What do you mean, no? You're not gonna sit in the car for three hours in agonising pain."

Sam tried not to wince as he sat up to face his brother. "I'll be fine, I just wanna get to the bunker and get some rest."

Dean tried not to let the irritation show on his face. Sam got cranky when he was in pain and he didn't want to start an argument. "You're in no condition for this drive. Your back is gonna seize up from sitting so long."

"So, I'll lay in the back." Sam quickly replied. When Dean didn't say anything he continued. "I'll be more comfortable in my own bed and you know it."

Dean ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "Sam…"

"Please, Dean." Sam turned his puppy dog eyes on full strength. "I just wanna go home."

He didn't feel the slightest bit guilty when Dean sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes as he exited the car. Sam watched as Dean moved their bags into the trunk and rolled up one of their ratty blankets, tossing it in the back for Sam to use as a pillow.

"Well," Dean huffed with mock impatience, gesturing to the back seat, "get in then."

Sam smiled to himself as he slowly made his way to the back. He folded his jacket in half and placed it between his back and the seat as he carefully laid on his side, bending at the knees so he could fit.

Dean grabbed the blanket and placed it under Sam's head. "Comfortable, Sasquatch?"

Sam could hear the disapproval in his brother's tone and tried not to give Dean any more reason to pull into the next motel they drove past. "Yeah, it's only for a couple of hours."

Dean resisted the urge to correct Sam and eyed him one last time before getting into the driver's seat and starting up the car. "Let's go home then."


	2. Chapter 2

It was pitch black by the time they got to the bunker, and Sam was sound asleep in the back seat. Dean carefully got out of the car and grabbed their bags from the trunk, trying not to wake Sam up.

He had spent most of the drive watching Sam in the rear-view mirror, relieved when he managed to fall into a peaceful sleep. He hated seeing his brother in pain and not being able to immediately fix it; preferably by emptying an entire clip into something, or someone.

Which is why he was determined to set everything up for Sam before waking him up. He knew that as soon as his brother woke up he would be in pain, the painkillers no doubt having worn off by now, and he wanted to delay that as much as possible.

Walking into the kitchen, he put some water on to boil and, after dropping off his own bag, he took the Advil out of Sam's bag and placed it on his brother's nightstand. He rummaged in the drawers until he found some comfortable clothes and an extra pillow then went back to the kitchen.

As he filled up the hot water bottle, he made a mental checklist to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything- _meds, hot water bottle, clothes, extra pillow_. The only thing missing was one cranky little brother.

After a quick detour to Sam's bedroom to drop everything off, he finally went back to the car to wake his brother up.

Sam was sprawled across the back seat, the blanket half under his head and half covering his face. He looked peaceful in sleep, his expression calm and undisturbed. Dean wished he could keep it that way.

"Sammy," Dean shook his shoulder gently as he leaned into the back seat of the Impala, "time for bed."

Sam roused and looked around confusedly for a second. It took him a moment to place they were in the bunker's garage. He thanked the universe, and Dean's heavy foot, that he'd gotten here in relative comfort.

But as expected, lying cramped in the back seat of the car hadn't helped his back at all, and he winced as he sat up. "Ow," he whined miserably, "why am I always the one getting thrown into things?"

Dean watched as Sam grimaced as his back stretched out. "I'll volunteer myself next time, how does that sound?"

"Somehow I don't think the spirits will care."

"Yeah, you're probably right. C'mon," Dean helped Sam lug his gigantic frame down the stairs.

They headed to Sam's room in comfortable silence, Sam walking slowly and stiffly, and Dean following close behind. He was certain the pain was back in full force, by the way Sam was grimacing with every step. Nothing a good night's sleep and some painkillers couldn't fix- hopefully.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and looked around his room, noting the clothes on the bed and the pills on the nightstand. He looked at his brother. "When did you do all this?"

"While you were drooling all over the upholstery."

"Funny," Sam chuckled humourlessly while he slowly pulled his shirt off. It was just like Dean to try to dismiss this. Dean didn't see it as doing anything more than what he should. But Sam appreciated it more than he could ever say. Dean always seemed to know exactly what he needed, sometimes even before Sam knew it himself.

He could picture Dean roaming around the bunker gathering everything. Going through their bags in search for painkillers. Rummaging through Sam's drawers looking for the softest and most comfortable clothes he could find, knowing he would want to spend the rest of the night, and probably the next day, in bed.

It didn't escape his notice that Dean had made a point of getting everything ready before waking him up. And to Dean, it was nothing more than being a good big brother.

It meant everything to Sam; that Dean still looked out for him just like when they were kids but had grown to respect and view Sam as an equal.

While Dean left to get Sam a glass of water, Sam busied himself changing his clothes.

By the time Dean came back into the room Sam was in his sweats and a t-shirt, making a move to get into bed when he suddenly doubled over in pain. He collapsed on his side on the bed, groaning.

Dean rushed over to his brother and supported him so he wouldn't slip right off the bed. That was the last thing Sam needed right now. "What the hell happened, man?"

"I moved," Sam deadpanned. With Dean's help he sat himself on the edge of the bed once again, then slowly shuffled back, a grimace plastered on his face. "Remind me not to do that again."

When he was settled semi-comfortably, Dean handed him the pills which he took and gulped down with the glass of water.

"Do you think you'll need the stronger ones?" Dean asked, eyeing the pained expression on Sam's face. "I can get them for you."

"It's fine, I'll just wait for these to kick in," Sam replied, exhaustion heavy in his voice. "I just wanna go to sleep."

Dean seemed apprehensive to leave Sam, but there wasn't much else he could do for his brother right now. He reminded himself that Sam was a grown man and could look after himself, but it wasn't that easy to tamper down his big brother instincts. "If you need anything-"

Sam cut him off, "I'll shout, don't worry." Sam lowered himself agonisingly slowly onto the bed.

Dean grabbed the hot water bottle and slid it carefully under his back. "I got you this. I figured it would be better than icing those bruises."

Sam hissed at the contact, but soon melted into the warmth and relief it offered. "Thanks, Dean."

"There's an extra pillow here as well, if you need it." Dean was standing by the bed, sheepishly holding the pillow. "It used to help, right?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, holding his hand out for the pillow.

"I got it, dude," Dean said as he slid the pillow under Sam's knees.

Dean looked at his brother, watching Sam's increased breathing, the faint lines of pain clear on his face and the way he was clutching the sheets tightly in his fisted hand. He bit back a retort about stubborn little brothers, it was, after all, a Winchester family trait.

Sam sighed in relief as he finally found a comfortable position where his back didn't feel like it was splitting in half. He watched as Dean fussed with the pillow.

He saw his brother's actions for what they were; Dean didn't want to leave and was doing whatever he could to delay his departure. He knew that his brother felt useless when Sam was ill, when there was nothing he could do except feed him pills and sit by his bedside.

But Dean was exhausted, just as much as Sam was. He had driven for hours in the dark after a tiring hunt, and now here he was, taking care of Sam instead of himself. It was Dean Winchester in a nutshell. And while it meant everything to Sam that his brother was here, he wanted Dean to take care of himself as well.

"Are you gonna tuck me in too, mom?" Sam asked, sarcasm clear in his voice. He regretted it when he saw a flinch cross Dean's face. He softened his voice. "Get some rest, Dean. I'll be fine."

Sam could see the reluctance on Dean's face as he turned towards the door, then seemed to finally accept there was nothing else for him to do.

"Night, Sam," he said, as he shut the door behind him.

"Goodnight, Dean" he uttered into the quiet of the room and shut his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam tossed and turned on the bed once again; he hadn't been able to get any sleep since Dean had left. He had no idea how much time had passed, only that the pain kept getting worse and the painkillers weren't helping at all.

He readjusted the hot water bottle- now only lukewarm- on his back as he changed positions once again. Laying on his back for too long made his sore and inflamed bruises even more painful but laying on his side took away the small reprieve that the warmth of the hot water bottle gave him.

He huffed in annoyance and groaned as another stab of pain shot through his back. He was beyond exhausted at this point, and all he wanted was to sleep. But it seemed that wasn't in the cards for him tonight.

After another ten minutes of laying in agonising pain, Sam gave in and decided he needed more painkillers, regretting not taking Dean up on his offer earlier. But they weren't exactly cheap, and the prescription weren't easy to come by, so he normally tried to avoid taking them if possible.

Over the years he had become an expert at dealing with his pain. He knew exactly what worked and what didn't, what would set the pain off and what would relieve it. He did his best not to provoke any flare-ups; he was fit and healthy, worked out regularly, ate a healthy diet- unlike his brother.

But he didn't exactly lead a healthy lifestyle. Hunting provoked more than a few injuries, no matter how careful he was. And it couldn't be helped if he didn't sleep more than four or five hours most night. There was always research to do, monsters to hunt, big bads to stop. The hunting life wasn't exactly stress free.

Most of the time he managed to get by with some rest and a lot of Advil, but today it just wasn't doing the trick. It seemed his body had grown tired of the mistreatment and now Sam was paying the price.

It took Sam a moment to convince himself to get up. Every little movement seemed to make the pain worse, but relief was all the way across the room. He could take a little more pain if it meant he could finally sleep.

Rolling on to his side, Sam breathed a sigh of relief when it took the pressure off the bruising. He leaned heavily on his arms as he levered himself up on the bed. His back popped and cracked as he sat up.

Getting up was a whole other story- as soon as he put any weight on his legs the stabbing pains were back. He hissed as every movement made the pain worse until it felt like his back was going to split in half. He couldn't take much more of this.

His eyes shut almost of their own accord as he curled forward onto his knees, hoping and praying that the pain would go away.

He should call Dean. He'd told his brother that he would if he needed anything and now here he was, in too much pain to even get up. His phone seemed like the best option, since he didn't trust his voice not to crack if he shouted for him. He reached for it on the nightstand, but as he did his back twisted and he let out a loud whimper.

The pain was excruciating. He could hear himself panting and groaning but couldn't stop, it just hurt too much. His back was on fire, the pressure building to the point where he didn't know what to do with himself to just make it stop.

As he lay there trying to get away from the pain, trying to get his breathing under control, he could hear noises coming from the corridor. When he finally opened his eyes, Dean was crouching in front of him, eyes wide with concern and Sam's name on his lips.

"Sammy, talk to me." Dean was cradling Sam's face in his hands, silently wiping a stray tear as it slid down Sam's cheek.

"It fucking hurts," Sam gasped and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. "Make it stop."

Dean's heart almost broke at Sam's request. His little brother sounded just like he had when they were kids and Sam had suffered from horrible growing pains. He would whimper and cry and writhe on the stiff motel mattress as Dean rubbed his aching legs.

He looked at Sam now and, behind the 6' 4" fully grown man built like a shit brickhouse, he saw the terrified kid waiting for his big brother to make it all better.

"It's okay, Sam," he soothed, "I'll make it all go away."

Reluctantly letting go of his brother, Dean gently settled Sam back down on the pillow. The cries of pain he let out went straight through Dean's heart. He manoeuvred Sam onto his side and slid a pillow between his knees.

As he stepped away from the bed, he felt a hand shoot out and grasp his t-shirt.

"Don't go," Sam moaned.

Dean clutched Sam's hand in his own. "I'm not leaving, Sam. I promise."

As soon as Sam let go of him, Dean scrambled for the medicine cabinet by the door, quickly locating the pills he had wanted to leave his brother with earlier and refilling his glass with water.

He was back at his brother's side in mere seconds and popped two pills out of the packet then helped Sam sit up to take them.

"We're gonna let those kick in, and if they don't work, you're gonna take another one and you're not gonna argue, alright?"

Sam could only nod.

"Even if they don't work, they'll at least knock you out." Dean placed his hand back inside Sam's fisted one and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Not really," Sam replied, "just been tossing and turning."

Sam didn't have to look at Dean to know his brother was rolling his eyes.

"Why didn't you say something, you idiot?"

Sam heard the fondness behind the exasperation on his brother's voice. He took a shuddering breath as another wave of agony made its way across his back. He squeezed Dean's hand tightly and felt his brother rubbing his thumb across the back of his hand.

"I was trying…" Sam gasped, and took a minute to get his breathing under control. "I was trying to get to my phone."

"Well, I'm here now. What do you need?"

Dean, crouched in front of the bed again, looked up at Sam. The kid looked wrecked. He was simultaneously struggling to stay away and to fall asleep; his eyelids were drooping but as soon as he closed his eyes he grimaced in pain. He looked pale, his hair matted with sweat across his forehead, and the circles under his eyes becoming more and more pronounced as the night went on.

Under the sheets, which covered him from the waist down, Dean could see Sam's legs shaking restlessly to the rhythm of the spasms of pain; they alternated between tensing and relaxing as the pain came and went.

Sam clutched at Dean's hand again, making him wince with the strength of his grip. He could hear the bitten-off pained whimpers coming from his brother and felt his sense of helplessness rising.

"Sam, what can I do?" he asked again. All he wanted right now was for the pills to kick in and knock Sam out.

They had both experienced more than their fair share of suffering, but nothing was ever as painful as seeing the other in pain. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed everything else when it was your sibling crying out in pain.

Sam took a deep breath in, concentrating on the air as it entered and filled his lungs. He could feel Dean's calloused hand stroking his hair while the other was still clutched in Sam's fist. The weight of the duvet on his legs grounded him in the moment.

This pain would stop. It would not last forever.

He opened his eyes to see Dean had shifted position and was kneeling by Sam's bed. The intense look directed his way made Sam feel warm inside.

"Can you heat up the water again?" Sam finally replied. It was the only thing so far that seemed to have any effect on the pain, but it had since gone cold.

Dean was already standing and grabbing the discarded bottle on Sam's bed. "You got it. I'll be right back."

He quickly made his way to the kitchen and boiled some more water, hissing when it splashed over his hands in his hurry to return to Sam's side.

He couldn't have been gone for more than five minutes, but when he returned Sam's eyes were shut and his expression looked calmer than Dean had seen all evening. His breathing had evened out and his hand was splayed on the sheet by his head. He looked peaceful.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, not wanting to wake his brother if he was truly asleep.

When Sam didn't stir, he gently placed the hot water bottle against Sam's back, supporting it with a pillow so it would stay in place. He tucked the covers up to Sam's chin, and stroked his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

Sam stirred momentarily, leaning into Dean's touch. "Thanks, Dean," he whispered softly, more asleep than awake.

Dean chuckled at Sam's slurred words. It was a relief to see that he would finally be able to get some rest. But just in case, Dean lowered himself onto the bed next to Sam, careful not to jolt him.

Just in case he needed his big brother again.

Dean fell asleep to the sound of Sam's soft snores by his side.


End file.
